Experimental
by xXxXBrokenxWingsXxXx
Summary: Pre-Apocalypse: The virus that began it all started off as nothing more than an illegal experiment upon some innocent people. Journal-Style Chapters. Pre-Mutation and Infection Special Infected. Varying POVs. Complete.
1. Introduction

**Experimental  
**_Introduction_

_Dear Journal From The Asshole Doctor,_

(Since they are sorta threatening me, I am writing something down...)

When I was brought to the base, I never would have imagined my captors were the military. Sure enough, though, when they untied my blind fold, I was in a medium-sized room with several other people. Some of them were definitely military, though I could only guess which branch. The ones who were not military looked as confused as I felt, and they, much like myself, were tied to a chair.

I observed them. They were a diverse bunch. None of them looked like they had anything in common, especially not with me. Well, now I know better, because the military guy told us exactly what we have in common: we are their little guniea pigs for a new virus.

Apparently, the military lab got ahold of this really weird virus. It mutates constantly and with no obvious reason. The head honcho wanted the opportunity to test it on a group of people with dissimilar body conditions. Since they also wanted to keep everything "hush-hush", they had illegally gathered their experiments-to-be, aka me and the other non-military people.

Shortly after he explained the situtation to us, Sergeant Asshole forced us to introduce ourselves. Kindergarten all over again.

The first one to (figuratively, since they refused to untie us) step up to the plate was this obese man. His name was- is, technically, Roger. Before this shit happened, he worked at a law firm with no wife or kids at home. He once had Balto, his pet husky, who died of cancer a few years ago(I felt a twinge of sympathy for him; my mother passed on just eight months ago. Lung cancer. From years of abusing the cancer sticks.).

Regardless of our similar losses, I can't help but find him grotesque. His cheeks bare resemblance to a chipmunk, and his belt appears ready to bust at any given moment. He also burps. A lot. **Disgusting**.

Next up was a bulky, cranky jerk named Jason. He basically spat at us about how he was a college quarterback. Taking one good look at him and referring back to my health class, I could just tell who his good buddies were: steroids.

So, basically, the military recruited a pig and a junkee for their experiment. Fucked up, but hey! Whatever makes them happy.

The next one was a girl about high-school age. Bone-thin, yet based off the clothes she was wearing, freakin' rich as hell. Which explains her boobs. Talk about getting some nice work done. Her name is Samantha. Too moody for my tastes, but I guess she was nice enough during the "Hi-my-name-is-so-and-so.." session.

Freddy went after her. He told us about how he used to be a jockey and how he now runs a global office. During his story, he kept bursting into random giggling fits. One of the officers actually tranquilized him when he started getting out of control and told us he had been a jockey until a hoof to the head landed him in Crazy Town.

They made me go next. I hated how everyone looked at me, especially this smug little bitch with saggy tits and a shirt far too tight around her bulging belly. I later learned her name is Crystal and that she had recently been putting up a fight against bulimia.

Anyways, when they made me go, my mouth went dry. Compared to the freaks, weirdos, or nasties surrounding me, I am a total plain Jane. No mental issues, physically average, blah, blah, blah.

"My name's Molly," I told them, nodding apathetically. "I'm in my first year of college, working for my degree in... uh... You know, let's go to the next person."

Luckily, they did. Even the military found me boring, evidently.

The next three guys- Leon, Wally, and William- are fairly average teens. Leon loves and participates in parkour, Wally is a heavy smoker, and William plays tackle football. Leon and Wally were by far the most attractive people there, too. The military guys either looked pissed or snobbish, and everyone else was flawed in some way, including me. Like I said: plain Jane.

My hair is shoulder-length brown, and I have brown eyes. Average build, bust, and a slightly freckled complexion with one or two zits. Yeah... I hate my appearance, but God gave me the body he did. So whatever.

Back to the point!

Leon is maybe on the short side, but he has a cute face with ash blonde hair in a shaggy cut. His eyes are a dark green,and his skin is fairly flawless, minus a scar on the bridge of his nose.

Wally, on the other hand, is quite tall. About 6'2. And though his teeth are a tad crooked on bottom and his skin is marred with scars from who-knows-what, he is just all-around good-looking. A heart-breaker, I can tell. In fact, where Leon has a boyish charm, Wally looks like he could be a college student with his air of maturity.

Man, I hate seniors. Even when I am older than them, they still draw me in. Stupid boys. Stupid, attractive senior boys.

Okay, so after the stupid introductions, they basically shoved us each into our own cage. Glass walls so they can observe us and we can see each other. They then injected their fucking virus into us and untied our feet and hands. Once they were out of the cages, they left.

Now I am writing in a journal the doctor guy gave me and all the others. They say we are supposed to write on how we feel physically, mentally, and emotionally. Yeah, well, I do not intend to be helpful. At least not until they feed me. 'Cause I am **STARVING**.

_Sincerly,  
__Specimen #9 _(which is apparently my new "title")  
_Molly Gordon_

* * *

_**A/N: **_Hope you enjoy some pre-apocalypse L4D-ness. :)

Please do. Enjoy, that is. :)


	2. Journal 1: Leon

**Experimental  
**_Journal 1: Leon_

_Dear Fucking Medical Notebook,_

I don't really wanna write this shit down, but from what I have seen, writing is the only way to get food around here. That girl- Molly, Polly, Dolly, whatever- wrote in her notebook, and the dickheads gave her a sandwich and bottle of water.

Che, fucking stupid, man.

From where they have me, I can see that chick with the huge boobs; she is directly across from me. To my right is William, and to my left is Wally.

I'm kind of glad they put me right next to Wally. He and I have been pals since first grade in Ms. Kinker's class. Granted, we haven't really hung out much in high school, but we still see each other a lot (he lives right next door, so... duh.).

Wally tapped on my glass a few minutes ago, in fact, and grinned at me. He was clearly conveying something along the lines of: _"How do I always end up in these situations with you?"_

Pretty sure he is referring to when we were eight and got trapped in a WalMart bathroom.

Like I was saying, if God planned this hell for me, I'm fucking relieved he gave me Wally. What a nightmare, though. Who woulda guessed **MILITARY **would do illegal experiments. Hypocrites.

Oh, right, I'm supposed to write on how I feel. Or some B.S. like that.

I feel pissed off. I **AM **pissed off. What the fuck is wrong with you, doctor? Taking innocent kids (with the exception of that one time I went to Juvie- hey! Hilary and Markus were asking for that baseball bat to the windshield.) out of their daily lives and interupting their education (I work hard to maintain my C's and D's, ya fucking bastard!) and putting them in an illegal experiment (who cares if it is the most fun I've had since eighth grade!)?

But seriously.

This is some fucked up bullshit.

And if you think I'm sticking around, Doc, you are seriously mistaking. You picked the wrong Leon to mess with.

_Fuck Off Sincerely,  
__  
Specimen #6  
__Leon Davis_


	3. Journal 2: Molly

**Experimental  
**_Journal 2: Molly_

_Dear Journal,_

You know how in horror movies, when the hero or heroine is in trouble, you can tell time is going slowly, but it seems to go by very fast? Yeah, real life? Not like that at all.

The only thing I've felt for the past hour and a half is irritation and boredom. I'm not even scared anymore. This is all so ridiculous, unbelievable, **STUUUUUUUUUPIIIIIIIID**!

Not that I'm complaining.

Since I am "Specimen #9", there is no one to my left except the wall- we have a circular shape, but there is a wall between me and "Specimen #1" for some reason. Point is, I only have one person next to me. At my right is Crazy Man, better known as Freddy. He is starting to shake the grogginess, but I have to admit... He kind of scares me. Therefore, communication is not tempting.

To his right is Wally. Then Leon, William, Crystal, Roger, Samantha, Jason.

In our cages/rooms, there is a button we can press if we need something or want to talk with the others. Unfortunately, there is no such thing as a private conversation; anything we say to one person is heard by them all. Talk about awkward.

...

Ugh.

Alright, I will admit I feel queasy right now. Is it from the sandwich or the virus, right, Doc? Well, I do not know. I am just writing what you want me to write.

Pain. Pain in the stomach. And, yet, I still feel hungry.

Weird.

_Sincerely,_

_Specimen #9  
__Molly Gordon_


	4. Journal 3: Roger

**Experimental  
**_Journal 3: Roger_

_Dear Doctor,_

Since you are not giving me much choice in this...

Just thought I would let you know I am starving. Really bad, too. Is that normal?

Also, I feel sort of bloated.

_You're Welcome, _

_Specimen #3 __Roger Miller_


	5. Journal 4: Wally

**Experimental  
**_Journal 4: Wally_

_Yo,_

What's a kid gotta do to get smokes around here, ya bitches? I know it illegal and shit, but man, come one! You guys obviously ain't gots a problem with "illegal". You and you dumbass experiment.

**GET ME SOME GODDAM' SMOKES**!

The cravings, man, the cravings!

Hey, while I'm writing, thought I'd mention this: Ya dumbasses need to get more babes. Me and my bro Leon like the women, ain't so fond of all the dicks.

Seriously! What are y'all? **Gay**? Where's all the women!

One more thing! Since you fucks put that virus thing in my system, my spine been hurtin' bad. Better get me some pain pills.

Or else.

(And don't think just 'cause y'all got the guns and I'm in a lil' cage I can't give ya hell. 'Cause I can.)

_Signed,  
_

_Specimen #7  
__Wallace "Wally" Brown_

_P.S. _I ain't fucking around! Get me some fucking smokes! Cigarettes, Doc, get with the program!


	6. Journal 5: Jason

**Experimental  
**_Journal 5: Jason_

_Guess what?_

I'm not doing your stupid journal. So there. Go fuck yourself.

_Specimen #1  
__Jason Young_


	7. Journal 6: Molly

**Experimental  
**_Journal 6: Molly_

_Dear Journal,_

Okay, Doctor, I am... feeling... very bad now!

I feel like puking.

And I'm craving meat like no one's business!

My head is pounding...

And my vision. It's becoming kind of blurry.

Can I get some help, please?

_Sincerely,_

_Specimen #9  
Molly Gordon_


	8. Journal 7: Leon

**Experimental  
**_Journal 7: Leon_

_Medical Notebook,_

Alright, I am not into that whole "showing fear" thing, but even I have to admit I am starting to get freaked out.

That girl Molly started banging on the glass of her cell in obvious panic. The doctor came by, scribbled some notes, and **WALKED AWAY**.

I may not be a warm-hearted person. Wally admits he is a bit of a coldfish himself. However, when we exchanged looks, I could just tell we were thinking the same thing. That poor chick. She's having a panic attack, whether from the virus or some phobia she might have, and the doctor won't even sedate her or nothin'.

Jason, from where he is, couldn't see her, but he could hear her. He and that Crystal chick rolled their eyes and snickered a bit. Crystal even pressed the little button and snorted in a pig-like voice, "Stop being so dramatic. Geez, you don't see anyone else freakin' out, do ya?"

Wally returned via his button, "Why don't cha shut ya face, bitch? The whole fuckin' point of this experiment is ta see how it affect us."

I added, "Yeah, and it will affect us differently since we're all different. Like Wally said, that's the whole point."

Roger, the fat man who is also the oldest, threw in, "Grow up, young lady, and stop acting like you understand what that poor girl is going through."

It made me feel good about myself, and I saw Molly flash the three of us a brief smile.

And I noticed Wally flashing her one back.

Typical.

By the way, you fucktard doctor, my nails have grown in the past hour. Just thought I'd mention it in case, you know, you actually care.

_Signed,_

_Specimen #6_  
_Leon Davis_


	9. Journal 8: Samantha

**Experimental  
**_Journal 8: Samantha_

_To The Doctor,_

If I write this damn thing, will you let me go out? I hate being in here. All the people are so annoying, especially what's-her-face. Molly, right? I agree with Crystal; **WAY TOO DRAMATIC. **I mean, I'm over here by that Jason jerk! At least she has the crazy monkey instead.

Also, it is revolting how she is so obviously flirting with that Leon guy and Wally person.

Gross.

Like, find a guy your own age, right?

And, hey, Doc? Where do we go for the bathroom? I am not undressing in front of these people. Definitely not in front of Mr. Piggy. He's a pedo. You can just tell.

So, can I, like, get something to drink? Feelin' a bit thirsty.

Oh, wait, one more thing!

I feel really moody, and my nails are growing. Like, rapidly. Could you get me a nail file? Pretty please?

_Truly and Sincerely,_

_Sammy/Specimen #2_  
_Samantha Perez_


	10. Journal 9: Military

**Experimental  
**_Journal 9: Military_

_To Doctor Numberry,_

A brief observation of each specimen is enclosed.

**Experiment Progression Time: 6 hours.**

**Specimen 1: Jason Young.**

Subject shows high levels of resistance to experimental processes. Not unusual.

Subject also shows extreme levels of aggression. Such encroachment was present prior to injection of virus; however, levels of aggression and general agitation do appear to be increasing gradually. A close eye will be kept to insure safety of other specimens and officers alike.

No further notes.

**Specimen 2: Samantha Perez.**

Subject has grown more moody. Nails seem to be longer, too.

No further notes.

**Specimen 3: Roger Miller.**

Subject is especially bloated and gassy. His demand for food intake comes off as unnaturally aggressive, and boils have sprouted on visible parts of his body.

No further notes.

**Specimen 4:Crystal Ingle.**

No visible or evident changes in mood or body.

**Specimen 5: William Birde.**

Subject's right arm is slightly inflamed. A close eye will be kept to continue studying the enlargement.

No further notes.

**Specimen 6: Leon Davis.**

Subject's nails are lengthed and rather sharp. Watch will be held in case subject inflicts accidental or otherwise damage to himself.

No further notes.

**Specimen 7: Wallace Brown.**

Other than an unusually irritated cough, subject shows no changes.

No further notes.

**Specimen 8: Freddy Cruz.**

Subject is rather energetic and giddy.

No further notes.

**Specimen 9: Molly Gordon.**

#9 shows the most change. Hair is noticably thinner. Skin is paler and growing more so every hour. Speech is becoming incoherent, and subject displays high levels of anger. Armed watch is being kept.

Subject is, as of now, deemed too dangerous to be allowed contact with other specimens. Must be kept under lock and key and in isolation during exams.

**End.**

Physical, mental, emotional, and neurological exams will be underway shortly.

_Officer Scott  
Unit 4_


	11. Journal 10: Crystal

**Experimental  
**_Journal 10: Crystal_

_Dear Psycho Doc,_

Why are you people taking us in for "examinations?" I thought the point of these journals was to save you the trouble. Not that I care. Do what you want. You already are, technically.

_Not-So-Warm Regards,_

_Specimen #4_  
_Crystal Ingle_


	12. Journal 11: Wally

**Experimental  
**_Journal 11: Wally_

_Yo,_

I'm still waitin' fo my smokes, ya assholes. Pains in the ass, that's what y'all are.

Man, when you people took us inta that room, I admit I freaked. Do ya know how creepy it is ta be dragged from ya cell inta a dark room?

Made me feel betta when Leon got there, too.

Y'all brought us all down there and were practically feelin' us up. Did ya know molesting minors is frowned upon?

I tell ya, though: Roger, the fat dude... He lookin' nasty. And the skinny bitch? Bitchy-est little whore I ever met. Jason? What a ass. Fucking loser was just tryin' ta start a fist fight.

William... uh... Birde?... His arm is gross. I couldn't tell how bad it was 'til we was right beside each other.

Poor Leon. His nails could take outta eye. Be totally bad-A if he did that, too. Fuck, I'd help him. If it got us outta here. Lame place, by the way, Doc.

Oh, I best not forget ol' Crazy. He was bouncing off them walls, giggling like he was high. Freakin' monkey-man.

Where was that one chick? Uh, Molly, right? Man, I wanted to get a chance to talk to her. Unlike the moody bitch and saggy bitch, she was actually kinda nice-seeming.

Leon and I took a moment and got ta talkin' 'bout her a bit.

"You think she's alright, bro?" He asked.

"'Course not. She got a fucking virus with probably no cure coursing through her veins. Shame, too, 'cause she a real pretty one."

Leon just laughed at me. He thought she seemed nice, but he didn't really get my taste for women when it came to looks. He thought Bitchy-ness, aka Samantha, was much prettier. Less pleasant, but prettier.

It's okay he don't get me. I don't get him, either. I would rather have a fun, chill girl than some huge tits on a nasty beast.

No wonder we lost contact for such a long time. We stopped seeing things the same way when we got to high school. Stupid, when ya think about it, because other than our differen' tastes, we are bros. All we need is some similar DNA, and we're set.

I'm gettin' off topic.

Why was Molly still in her cell when we got back? She deserves some peace and air, too. I mean, ya fuckers have already ruined her life. At least give her **a bit **of freedom.

Oh, wait, now y'all are taking her out... Yep, she must be off to her own private examination. Well, ya fucks better not do anything **inappropriate**, or I'll tear ya throats out. Dickheads.

Alright, I'm done.

Wait.

Last thing.

Remember when I said I was cravin' my smokes? Still am, but it's more... painful. And my nails grew 'bit, too. Not like Leon's. Hell, no one could have **those **nails. Sharp as thorns, solid as steel. Anyway.

And my tongue feels funny.

And the side of my face itches. I scratched it, and hot damn! It bled! Not from my nails or anythin'. It was like when you scratch the top of a zit, ya know?

Aight, I'm done.

_Signed,_

_Specimen #7  
Wallace "Wally" Brown_

* * *

_**A/N:** _May I just say that, while I love Wally, he is hard to write. Makes me wish I hadn't chosen to give him such a complex dialect.


	13. Journal 12: Roger

**Experimental  
**_Journal 12: Roger_

_Dear Doctor,_

My bloating has gotten worse. Now, instead of just my stomach, my arms, neck, and legs are bloating, too. I am genuinely in a great deal of pain. Might I get some pills? Or anything to reduce the pain?

Also, about the boils... They itch like crazy and hurt worse. My neck also has some now.

Lastly, Doctor, my gas is horrible. Burping and farting. But especially burps.

_You're Welcome,_

_Specimen #3  
Roger Miller_


	14. Journal 13: William

**Experimental  
**_Journal 13: William_

_Doctor,_

The muscles in my arm- the right, in case you have forgotten- are pulsing constantly. It truthfully isn't so much painful as it is irritating. And tiring. I can't even nap or anything because of the pulsing, pulsing, pulsing!

My arm also has inflamed a bit more. My left arm is looking pitiful in comparison.

_At your mercy,_

_Specimen #5  
William Birde_

_P.S. _If you are smart, you will never again address me by my last name in front of the others. Assuming I am going to die, I want to pass with **DIGNITY**.


	15. Journal 14: Leon

**Experimental  
**_Journal 14: Leon_

_Medical Notebook,_

After they took Molly away for her private exam, a few of us "specimens" jotted down notes, Wally and me included. We fell into an awkward silence, though most of us had really talked before or since that one incident.

Bored, I pressed the button to activate my speaker-thing. "Okay, can someone say something? This has been the longest eight hours of my life."

Wally pressed his button next. "I agree; Y'all make some conversation or somethin'."

I saw Samantha consider us for a moment. Her petite form showed as she reached for her button. "What are we supposed to talk about?"

Roger joined. "Well, we could talk about how stupid this is. Or we could get to know each other a bit better. I mean…" He burped suddenly, clutching his stomach in bloated pain. "Ah, excuse me. Like I was saying, we could give some less formal background on ourselves. Might as well, right?"

Many of us exchanged looks, the one exception being Jason—who just snorted and turned his back—and Freddy—who was giggling to himself, hunched over and fidgeting.

Crystal pushed the button inside her containment area. "Do you think we're gonna survive this stupid experiment?"

Samantha replied, "I hope so. I haven't done half the things I wanted to."

Wally sneered, "Even if we don't make it, wha' difference does it make?"

I glanced at him questioningly. I knew his life had traveled downhill in the last year or so, but I never knew he felt so empty over the whole thing.

William muttered, "I personally just want to know how much longer they plan to keep us locked up like gerbils."

"Or rats," added Roger with a sickening belch. He apologized, at least.

We probably would have kept talking except something awful and terrifying happened right then; Molly came dashing in, her eyes wilder than her hair. She was in a state of absolute fear, I remember observing. She slapped her hands on a few of our glass cells, as if trying to get to whoever was inside.

The doctor—or he may have just been an assistant—rushed in after her, pulling at her arms viciously. He screamed, "Control yourself, #9, control yourself!"

She whirled around to stare at him, her eyes glowing. I shuddered at her face. She looked like a monster. Like a rabid animal.

The guy tried to tug her away again, and this time…

Molly attacked him. She lunged at him, clawing and kicking. Then, when she comprehended he was still fighting back, she bit him.

In the neck.

She sank her teeth into his neck, near the jugular, and yanked her head back.

Blood poured and spurted from the guy. He was a fountain of blood, despite his effort to put pressure on the wound.

Wally and I barely had a chance to exchanged shocked looks when a loud _BANG! _echoed. When I opened my eyes and turned my head back around, Molly was lying dead on the floor beside the also lifeless assistant.

Jason went berserk about then, slamming into the walls and throwing the trashcan in his cell around, all the time screaming like he was on fire.

The reason, Doc, I wrote this down is because I want to know something.

Is what happened to Molly going to happen to us?

Are you going to kill us, too?

And, most importantly, I need to know…

**What the hell happened to Molly anyways**?

_Signed,_

_Specimen #6_  
_Leon Davis_

* * *

**_A/N:_ **To those who were guessing, yes Molly was a common infected.

Also, in response to some of the reviews I read, could we please not argue or act otherwise immaturely? If that continues, I will delete this story.

Thank you, and enjoy.


	16. Journal 15: Roger

**Experimental  
**_Journal 15: Roger_

_Dear Doctor,_

I honestly am petrified. You people have killed a young woman—a young woman who **you** caused to become a wild animal!

Is this our fate? To die because of your experiment?

You bastards. You will burn in Hell for this, trust me. These teenagers who, albeit are not completely on the straight and narrow, do not deserve to die like this!

I am absolutely disgusted.

_You're Welcome,_

_Specimen #3  
Roger Miller_


	17. Journal 16: Roger

**Experimental  
**_Journal 16: Roger_

_Dear Doctor,_

I had almost forgotten.

Although it is **quite** obvious you do not care about us, I would once more like to request something for my bloating. I feel like a balloon. Like I could pop if you poked me just right.

And my boils are worsening.

My mind lately is foggy, and I have started to vomit from pure nausea. It doesn't even help when I do vomit; if anything, it makes it worse. Makes me want to vomit again.

My arms and legs are covered in boils. And my stomach is so inflated my shirt no longer covers it.

The one boil on my neck is larger than the rest, to the point where I can't lean my head that way.

And my feet look like sausage!

Oh, my head hurts…

I feel nauseous, so sick.

Please, get me something. I know you don't care, but still.

Did I mention my boils are terrible? Ah, they itch!

You bastards are going to rot in Hell.

_You're Welcome,_

_Specimen #3  
Roger Miller_

_**A/N:**_ It is supposed to sound repetitive and like rambling. Just explaining that now.

Enjoy.


	18. Journal 17: Crystal

**Experimental  
**_Journal 17: Crystal_

_Dear Doc,_

Ew, ew, ew. Can I please have a cell not beside the fat man? He's disgusting!

_Not-So-Warm Regards,_

_Specimen #4_  
_Crystal Ingle_


	19. Journal 18: Military

**Experimental  
**_Journal 18: Military_

_To Doctor Numberry,_

Firstly, I offer my deepest condolences for the loss of your assistant and son-in-law.

Secondly, a brief update and observation on the status of each specimen is enclosed.

**Experiment Progression Time: 12 hours.**

**Specimen 1: Jason Young.**

Subject's aggression is skyrocketing. He is especially sensitive to loud, explosive noises, which send him into a fit of blind rage. He actually damaged the glass to his cell to the point where he had to be chained down to the floor.

As far as physically, subject's muscle mass has increased exponentially in his upper body. He has the appearance of an ape without hair.

Also, the subject's jaw seems to be rather loose.

Armed watch will be kept.

No further notes.

**Specimen 2: Samantha Perez.**

Subject's nails are three inches extended beyond the finger tips. Nails are incredibly sharp and scissor like.

Subject has been reported to cry at random intervals.

Close watch will be kept.

No further notes.

**Specimen 3: Roger Miller.**

Subject moans and groans a lot. His stomach is extremely bloated, and his body is covered in boils.

He also seems to be losing his ability to speak coherently, instead simply sticking to his moans and groans.

Subject vomits every hour or so. Food will be withheld.

Close watch shall be kept.

No further notes.

**Specimen 4:Crystal Ingle.**

Subject's neck seems elongated, and her jaw seems rather slack.

Her tooth quality is disintegrating, and she occasionally coughs up acid.

No further notes.

**Specimen 5: William Birde.**

Subject's arm is highly inflamed. The muscles in said arm are also hardening. Literally, they feel like stone.

Close watch will be kept for additional study.

No further notes.

**Specimen 6: Leon Davis.**

Subject's nails are no longer growing, but they are still hardening. He also emits strange growls every once in a while.

Leg muscles seem to be hardening, too.

Teeth, particularly canines, seem unusually sharp.

No further notes.

**Specimen 7: Wallace Brown.**

Subject's tongue seems to be in poor quality. He complains of stomach pangs, as well.

No further notes.

**Specimen 8: Freddy Cruz.**

Subject has developed a hunch back in an extraordinarily short period of time. He bounces of the walls, laughing manically.

Armed watch will be kept.

No further notes.

**Specimen 9: Molly Gordon.**

Subject showed erratic behavior before forced death.

An autopsy will be completed.

No further notes shall be kept on subject.

**End.**

The physical exams and mental evaluations went well with little trouble from everyone except #9. A second series of exams shall be held in an enclosed, heavily guarded courtyard in one hour.

_Officer Scott  
Unit 4_


	20. Journal 19: Wally

**Experimental  
**_Journal 19: Wally_

_Yo,_

I don't eve' know what's up anymore. Molly… Y'all killed her. A'ter she killed that assistant guy. God, that was na'ty.

Shit, I can't stop coughin' and gaggin'. There's this real na'ty taste in my throat, like an unfiltered smoke, which I know it ain't 'cause ya fucks haven't given my smokes yet.

And my stomach is hurtin' somethin' bad, man. Feel like my stomach trying to crawl up by throat or somethin'.

I tried to talk ta Leon; he wa'n't haven't none a tha'. He just growled at me. Liter'lly. Curled his lip an' everythin'.

Kinda freaked me out.

Wha' the hell's happenin' to us, ya bastards? Eh, I see you cowards coming, armed as always. What, scared of some sickly teens? Pussies. Wonder where we goin'. Guess I'll fin' out, huh?

_Signed,_

_Specimen #7  
Wallace "Wally" Brown_


	21. Finale

**Experimental  
**_Finale_

_7:37 P.M._

The military, with guns aimed at specimens one through eight, drives the group out of their cells. Traveling down a narrow hall, the military eventually delivers the group into a large courtyard. Every last military man in the whole building is there, standing at designated spots by the 20-foot-tall fence. An array of doctors—five in total—descend upon the experiments with beady eyes and nosy questions.

_7:45 P.M._

Once through with the brief exams, the group is allowed some time to stretch their legs. They are to stay within an area marked off with cones and duck-tape.

Although it is clear this is a rare opportunity, a majority of the group can only manage sitting or crouching, for they are in a great deal of pain.

Freddy, who acts as if he is on a sugar high, bounces around, reacting not to the screams for him to keep in the marked area when he ventures out. He occasionally jumps onto a soldier, bringing forth a muttered curse and slap. He just laughs.

The once thinner Roger belches and groans in pain, occasionally able to form words of discomfort. He stares uncomfortably at everyone, who pretty much ignores them due to their own issues.

Samantha, the anorexic one, cries and sobs pitifully into her hands, her long nails gleaming dangerously. Roger attempts to pat her shoulder, but she snarls and slashes at him. No one else messes with her.

Leon and Wally sit together, a bit farther from the others. They talk a little, but only a little. Leon fidgets, his leg muscles twitching underneath his pants as if he desires to jump or run, and he keeps scratching at his eyes with snarls. Wally's coughing is so constant he can barely talk around it. A strange smoke begins to pour from his skin, smelly and unpleasant.

Jason and Crystal also rest together. Her voice comes out in grotesque snorts, and his voice transmits through low growls. His upper body looks dreadfully inflamed with muscle, much like William's right arm, which seems bigger than his torso by this point.

Whilst observing the miserable guinea pigs, the doctors jot down their notes. Their experiment hit a down point, but everything is back on track now. Or so it seems.

_7:59 P.M._

Burping again, Roger finally rises and departs from the group to the border of the area they are allowed in. He needs to puke **again**, but there is no trashcan. The grass will have to do.

Preparing himself for the violent assault of acid, he breathes in, only to belch and groan. In that instance, something comes over him. A sort of haze traps his mind.

He glances up at the group of military. They are chatting happily while he is in pain. And it's their fault! With one final, loud burp, he stands and vomits. It shoots from his mouth and lands all over the military.

They shout in crescendo, blind and uncertain what just happened.

"The hell?" cries a nearby officer, who wasn't looking when the vomit was fired.

Another, who was, drops his gun. "How the fuck did that happen? He just puked all over them from **right there**!"

Meanwhile, Leon can no longer take it. With a mighty scream, he pounces one of the officers, ripping into him with his steel-like nails.

Wally, coughing and coughing, raises up. Firmly planted, he spots an officer aiming at his friend, ready to shoot, and spits out his tongue. The useless organ falls to the ground, making room for a much longer and much more useful organ. Using his intestines as a lasso, the heavy smoker wraps the guard with the gun and drags him.

While watching them, Freddy decides to play with the guards, too. He leaps onto a nearby officer who, in his panic, is not paying any attention. Unfortunately, as he claws at the man, a bullet dives into his flesh, killing him instantly…

…And starting a whole new case of chaos as Jason, hearing the noise, goes absolutely mad. A group of twelve guards in his sights, he charges, pummeling into them with his enlarges arms and fists.

He does not even notice when a bullet hits his jaw bone and causes it to fall off.

William and Crystal each join in. William spies a smaller group of officers, who are shooting at Jason in an attempt to kill him. So, naturally, he charges them and begins trying to kill **them**.

Crystal simply fires a huge ball of acid at the doctors. After all, they are real villains here. Their fault, their fault, their fault.

Gunshots whizzing pass, Samantha pays no mind to the guards or ruckus. But when an alarmed doctor comes to pull her away, assuming she is also in danger, she quickly corrects him with her lovely, blood-coated nails.

_8:00 P.M._

Blood covers the courtyard. Dozens of bodies, doctor and military, litter it. Specimen numbers one, four, five, six, and seven remain standing.

#6 pounces to the top of the gate easily, and the others scale it speedily.

Though they no longer control their minds, a part must remain, for six and seven go off in the same direction. Four and five travel in similar ways until they reach their own personal fork-in-the-road scenario, and one just storms off, like always, alone.

The five of them, all victims of stupidity and the same viral experiment. No longer, however, are they victims. They are the hunters, the killers, the distributers.

When they survived the slaughter and exited that base, they brought The Infection to the U.S., free to mutate everyone and anyone it touches.

Assuming, obviously, any of the original Infected chose not to kill them first.

* * *

_**A/N: **_Brief explanation: I think the smoker's "tongue" is actually his intestines, which is why a smoker can keep using it even after it's been cut off.

And with that, I say:

**The End**.


End file.
